Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
R onan
The early morning sun barely cut through the dense New York fog that clung to the city as I stepped into the back room of O’Malley’s. The bar was ours—had been for decades—but this room, soundproofed and locked tighter than a politician’s vault of secrets, was where business got done.
For the time being, I had to put my feelings for Kiera aside. It was time to talk shop.
And to take care of a problem I’d been meaning to take care of for a very long time.
Kiera hadn’t known this when she’d asked for my help, but Marco Benedetti had always been a thorn in my side, the kind of spoiled bastard who thought his father’s name gave him free rein to do as he pleased.
It was enraging.
For years, he’d been testing boundaries with me—not just in business, but in the subtle ways that grated at a man’s pride. He’d cozied up to my business contacts, slipping just enough cash under the table to lure away a few low-level operators. He’d shown up uninvited to our clubs, making a scene like he owned the place, and worse, he’d used our spaces as his playground. I’d seen how he treated women. I didn’t need to hear it from Kiera. He was an asshole that deserved a swift kick in the nuts.
And while I could let a lot of things slide for the sake of peace between families, Marco’s ambition had started to reek of arrogance, and if there’s one thing I couldn’t stomach, it was a man who didn’t know when he was out of his depth.
It was time I finally took care of him.
Around the long mahogany table, my men waited, drinks in hand. Finn, one of my underbosses, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his usual cocky smirk gone. He was young, green in some ways, but loyal and more intelligent than most gave him credit for. Seamus, my most trusted underboss, had his hands clasped on the table, his expression unreadable. Declan, our tech genius, was already typing on his tablet, and Bradan, my enforcer, stood off to the side, his arms folded like he was ready to punch a hole in the wall.
I stepped to the head of the table, ignoring the chair waiting for me. My father had always insisted that power meant being above eye level, that sitting conveyed submission.
Old habits die hard, even if my old man was six feet under.
“I want to talk about Marco Benedetti,” I began, locking eyes with each one of my men. “He hasn’t crossed the line yet, but he’s danced on the edge of it more than once and we need to handle it.”
Seamus leaned forward. “We’ve heard whispers. He’s been putting feelers out to some of the smaller families in Brooklyn. Trying to poach allies.”
Declan’s fingers paused over his tablet. “I’ve been tracking his movements. He’s been frequenting Velvet a lot—enough to make me wonder if he’s scoping out the place for something else.”
Velvet. The same club where Kiera had stirred up trouble with Marco. My jaw tightened.
“And his father?” I asked, leaning on the table.
“Lorenzo Benedetti,” Seamus said, his voice grim. “The Italian kingpin of Manhattan’s underworld. Ruthless, cutting, and always three steps ahead. He’s letting Marco off the leash to see what he can do, but Lorenzo doesn’t tolerate failure. If Marco screws up, it’ll be his head.”
“Or ours,” Finn muttered.
“Not ours,” I replied. “Not if we stay ahead of this.”
Bradan spoke for the first time, his voice low and deliberate. “What’s the play? We can’t touch Marco without setting off Lorenzo. And Lorenzo won’t stop until he buries us if we start something.”
“Exactly,” I said, pacing the length of the room. “This isn’t about force. Not yet. Marco’s arrogant, but he’s also ambitious. We let him feel comfortable, and he’ll keep pushing until he makes a mistake. That’s when we act.”
Seamus nodded. “So, we keep him on a tight leash without him knowing it.”
I gestured to Declan. “I want everything on him. His movements, his contacts, his habits. If he so much as sneezes in a direction we don’t like, I want to know about it.”
Declan nodded, already typing furiously.
“And the clubs?” Finn asked.
“Beef up security at Velvet and the others in Manhattan. Discreetly,” I said. “If Marco’s stepping into our territory, he’s doing it to test us. I want him to know we’re watching without giving him a reason to complain to his father.”
“And if he crosses the line?” Bradan asked, his tone hard.
My gaze turned cold. “If he crosses the line, we remind him why the O’Malleys have ruled this city for generations. But we won’t do it until we have something to show Lorenzo.”
Seamus smiled. “You want Marco to hang himself with his own rope.”
“Exactly,” I said, my voice steel. “Marco’s not the problem. Lorenzo is. And if we make a move too soon, we’ll be playing into his hands. This has to be surgical.”
The room fell silent.
Seamus stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “What about you, boss? Where do you want to be in all this?”
I glanced at him, my decision already made. “I’ll be the one to handle Marco personally.”
I’d enjoy it too.
The room was quiet again, the tension thick as molasses.
“Dismissed,” I said, and one by one, my men filed out, their expressions grim, but focused. Seamus lingered, his broad frame blocking the doorway as Finn paused just behind him, his usual smirk half-hidden beneath a flicker of curiosity.
“Something on your mind, Seamus?” I asked evenly.
He glanced back at Finn, then stepped further into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Aye, boss, there is.”
Finn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the flicker of a grin threatening to break free. “Heard something interesting last night,” he said, drawing out the words like he was savoring them.
My eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, Finn. You’ve never been good at subtlety.”
He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Word is you’ve got yourself a girl.”
The silence that followed cut through the room like a blade. Finn was clearly enjoying the game, but Seamus’s expression was more serious, his gaze searching mine like he was trying to read the truth before I said it.
“And?” I asked, my voice calm, controlled.
Finn whistled low, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “And nothing, boss. Just thought it was interesting. Not your style is all.”
Seamus shot him a sharp look. “Don’t push it, Finn.”
I stepped around the table, coming to stand directly in front of them. Finn straightened slightly under my gaze, but I kept my tone steady. “If I did, would it matter? My business is my own, and I don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
Seamus nodded slowly, his respect evident in the way he held himself. “Of course, boss. We know you’ve got your reasons. But if it’s true… This kind of thing—it paints a target on your back, you know that.”
“I know,” I said, my voice hardening. “And I don’t need either of you worrying about it.”
Finn raised an eyebrow, his grin returning. “So, it is true, then.”
I leveled him with a look that could have frozen water.
“Finn,” I warned.
I wasn’t ready to talk about what Kiera meant to me.
She was a complication I hadn’t asked for, but couldn’t seem to push aside. She didn’t fit into the clean lines of my world, and yet the thought of her being anywhere else, with anyone else, stirred something primal in me. I wasn’t quite ready to delve into what that meant.
“Right, right. Shutting up now.” He mimed zipping his lips, but the twinkle in his eye didn’t fade.
Seamus took a step closer, his voice low, his concern genuine. “Boss, it’s not about prying. It’s about watching your back. If this Benedetti situation gets out of hand, they’ll look for any weakness. You know that.”
I let his words hang in the air for a moment before responding. “If there’s anyone I care about, they’re not a weakness,” I said, my tone steel. “And if anyone tries to touch her, I’ll handle it. Personally.”
Finn’s grin faded slightly, and even Seamus’s usual calm demeanor flickered with unease.
“Understood,” Seamus said quietly, but firmly.
I stepped back, letting the tension in the room dissipate as I turned toward the table. “Now, if you’re done speculating about my personal life, you’ve both got work to do. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
They nodded, Finn muttering something under his breath as they left the room.
As the door clicked shut, I leaned against the edge of the table, my thoughts swirling. The rumor wasn’t wrong—Kiera was mine, even if she didn’t quite know it yet.
But keeping her safe in a world like this?
That was a game I couldn’t afford to lose.
It was time to take care of her problem. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I landed on Marco’s name. My jaw tightened as I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before I pressed call.
The line rang twice before Marco’s voice came through, smooth and laced with smug amusement.
“Well, if it isn’t Ronan O’Malley,” he drawled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the bullshit, Marco,” I said, my voice sharp and cold. “This isn’t a social call.”
“Clearly,” he replied, his tone unbothered. “So, what is it, then?
“You’ve been messing around with someone who belongs to me,” I said, ignoring his jab. “And I’m here to tell you to back the fuck off.”
There was a pause, then a low chuckle on the other end of the line. “And who might that be?”
“Kiera Delaney.”
“Oh! The firecracker from Velvet. I remember that one. Threw a drink in my face in front of the entire club.”
My grip on the phone tightened, my voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “Yes. And let me make this perfectly clear, Marco. She’s mine now. And any move you make against her, any attempt to touch her, will be a direct challenge to me.”
Marco’s laughter faded, replaced by a sharp edge in his tone. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Deadly serious,” I said, my voice cold as steel. “Kiera is under my protection now. So whatever grudge you’re nursing, let it go. If you come after her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
The silence that followed was tense, stretching just long enough to feel like a challenge. Then Marco sighed, his tone shifting into something more measured.
“I don’t want to make waves, Ronan,” he said finally. “Kiera pissed me off, sure, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about than some girl. If she’s yours, fine. Consider this me stepping aside.”
I didn’t relax, didn’t let my guard down for even a second. “I hope you mean that, Marco. Because if you cross me, this city won’t be big enough to hide you.”
“Message received,” he said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Anything else?”
“Stay out of my way,” I said bluntly.
“Right,” Marco replied, his tone flat. “Well, this has been lovely. Let’s not do it again anytime soon.”
The line went dead, and I lowered the phone, my jaw still tight.
Marco Benedetti was a lot of things—arrogant, reckless, opportunistic—but he wasn’t stupid. If he said he’d back off, he likely meant it. For now.
But I wasn’t about to let my guard down. Not when Kiera’s safety was on the line.